


what the buzz is all about

by tootsonnewts



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: M/M, a lil bee-tcute if you will, beekeeper! hunk, gardener! keith, two dirty boys trying to grow their chemistry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 06:24:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18089123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts
Summary: Hunk’s mind clicks hard over big guy, but he bats the thought away to formulate his answer.“Okay, so you know how you feel about your tomatoes?” Keith nods in affirmation. “That’s how I feel about my bees. Not in a eating ‘em kinda way. Just in a...loving them and wanting them to succeed in life kinda way.”“Bees get degrees,” Keith answers thoughtlessly. It’s so nonchalant that Hunk almost misses the fact that it was a joke. When it hits him, he laughs a little louder than is maybe necessary, but the surprise of Keith’s wit startles something in him.“Gotta bring home the gold for their queen somehow,” he answers.a community garden opens up in hunk's town, and with it, a chance for something new.





	what the buzz is all about

**Author's Note:**

> this piece was written for an unfortunately canceled zine.
> 
> the wonderful, kind, and patient [peach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackberry_peachx/pseuds/blackberry_peachx) provided some accompanying art, which i will link to once it's posted!
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

The community garden sprouts up one summer as a way for the town to come closer, and as a development initiative from city council. From the moment he saw the flyer pinned up to the corkboard in old Slav’s diner, Hunk just knew he needed a plot. So on a clear, cool morning in April, he marched right down to city call and filed an application for a square dead in the center of the planned location.

Being a well-known member of the community helped greatly when it came time for plot assignment. Even more helpful was the fact that he was also well-loved for his healthy hives of honey bees and the liquid gold they produced. His request was overwhelmingly approved as a way to help diversify and naturally pollinate the garden.

It took a while to get new hives together and establish their colonies, but the warm summer morning when he finally set the cover down on his new babies after freshly carrying them in was truly magical. He was so focused on his own work that he hardly paid any mind to the buzz of activity that occurred outside his brand new flow hives. When he finally did, he gasped in pleasure.

Nearly every plot had been claimed, and they were already well on their way to being full of fruits, vegetables, and even some beautiful sunflowers, if he was making out the contents of one of the raised beds correctly. His best friend Lance had claimed a bed beside him, opting to grow mostly berries just to see if he could influence the flavor of Hunk’s honey. Lance’s girlfriend, Pidge, had the plot next to it, filled with nothing but different types of corn. She had mentioned, at some point, that she was experimenting with cross-breeding varietals for something or another, but all Hunk could think about was how much of it she’d let him barbecue when it was ripe. Coran, who ran the pharmacy downtown, had another of the plots bordering Hunk’s, but he hadn’t made it down to work his bit of the land just yet. The final plot butting up against Hunk’s was filled almost haphazardly, plants seemingly dropped into the earth in a stream of consciousness sort of design. The garden’s identification plaque reads Kogane.

This is still all Hunk has seen of the plot’s owner.

The first morning the garden opened, Hunk accompanied Lance and Pidge to help them set up their beds. He noted the name on the mystery gardener’s plot and something in his mind twinged with a maybe, almost, _sort of_ memory, but he just couldn’t firm it up. He nudged Lance in the side and asked about it, an action he quickly came to regret as Lance launched full speed into a rant about how the garden’s owner was his greatest rival and an all-around bad guy, _seriously Hunk, don’t you dare get friendly with him, I swear to God above!_

At the time, Hunk had just shrugged his shoulders and moved on. But now, every time he glimpses the plaque and the interesting mix of tomatoes, herbs, and chili peppers being lovingly cultivated, he can’t help but to wonder about what kind of guy would plant a veritable salsa garden. It niggles at him every time he zips up his bee suit and dons his veil.

_Kogane…_

_Kogane…_

One afternoon, just as Hunk is reslotting a frame, it hits him.

_High school!_

Keith Kogane had been in Hunk’s calculus class. They didn’t trade in the same circles of friends, but they did run into each other occasionally, since they tended to take part in the same extracurriculars. If Hunk remembered correctly, he was a relatively quiet, if not slightly standoffish, kind of guy. He was by no means aggressive, but everyone knew not to mess with him. His dad had been a Marine or Secret Ops guy or something just as terrifying (nobody really knew for sure, but it was one of those high school urban legends that everyone swore was rooted in truth, and who was Hunk to argue, really?), so his boundaries were set wider than the posts of the football field goal. Hunk wonders what he’s been up to in the years between high school and now.

He doesn’t have to wait for long.

 

+++

 

One morning, Hunk is in his bee suit, pulling a frame out of a hive to check the colony when he realizes he isn’t alone. It’s a Tuesday, and dawn crack early at that, so he wasn’t expecting company for another few hours at least. As he tips the frame back to take a look at the bees, he catches movement from the corner of his eye. He tries his best to be discrete, which is hard for a big guy like him, but he glances over quickly to assess the situation. He can’t make much out, just someone in overall shorts with a floppy hat and gloves bent over a pepper bush and whispering seriously to themself. Hunk can’t see their face for the hat, but he can just make out muscular arms and thighs, a delicate neck, and a strong set of shoulders atop a shapely back.

It’s a very good back.

It’s smooth and petite, tapering down into a lightly curving waist. It tops off strong hips that rock from side to side as their owner hums and pokes around their plants. Hunk follows their motion, hardly paying attention as his bees get impatient and start whipping up their motion in protest of their portion of the hive being suspended away from the rest. They start getting rowdy, so Hunk reaches for his smoker to calm them down.

As he douses the frame, the gardener shifts over to the tomato cages, wiping down each fruit and whispering encouragements. As they work, they shift around on their knees, circling the plant. The morning sun hits the gardener’s skin, sending their skin shimmering as the light hits their skin. They turn their face fully in Hunk’s direction, and his heart stops in his chest.

In the plot next to his, planting peppers and tomatoes, is the most gorgeous man Hunk has ever seen. He swallows nervously as the man wipes down another tomato and smiles, patting it lightly, as if he were patting a dog who was a very good boy. Hunk is jealous of that very good tomato. He zones out, imagining himself as a very good tomato, round and red and juicy, hanging happily from a vine as the man wipes his skin down with a cloth and whistles a happy tune.

“Hey, um. Your, uhhh—your bees?”

The voice is low and warm, lightly raspy and a bit confused. It snaps Hunk out of his daze long enough to look down and see his entire hive dazed and sluggish from an overload of smoke. He flushes hot and drops the smoker to the ground, gingerly slotting the frame in his hands back into place.

“Are they gonna be alright, man?”

Hunk looks up, and holy _shit_ , he’s in trouble. Wide, violet eyes peer up at him curiously as their owner stands from his crouch, dusting off dirt-stained knees.

“Um.”

“Well?” the man asks, gesturing toward the frame Hunk _still_ holds. “Are they gonna be alright, dude?”

Oh god, his bees! Hunk shakes himself out of his stupor, bending down to check on his colony. They’re a little smoke-drunk, but otherwise unharmed and he breathes out a sigh of relief before straightening back up.

“Yeah, man. They’re a little sleepy right now, but I think they’ll pull through after a power nap.”

“Well, that’s good then,” violet eyes says with a smile. He steps forward, offering a gloved hand out to Hunk. “I’m Keith. Keith Kogane.”

A flash of snarled teeth and balled fists flashes through Hunk’s mind as his suspicions are confirmed.

“Kickass Keith!”

Keith drops Hunk’s hand, a slight stutter to the motion that tells Hunk he may have hit the nail _too_ on the head. Keith scratches the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Ahh, yeah. That—that’s me.”

“It’s great to see you again, buddy!” Hunk exclaims, clapping a hand down on Keith’s shoulder. The other man flushes a delicate pink across the bridge of his nose, and _gosh_ if that isn’t the most interesting thing Hunk has seen in a while. It suffuses across his skin, coloring his creamy skin in the loveliest shade of posies. Hunk wishes he could collect it from his face and use it to flavor his honey.

“How have you been since school?” he asks instead, congratulating himself on his smoothness.

“I’ve been alright. Left town for a while, but I’m back now.”

“Why’d you leave, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Keith smiles warmly. “I don’t mind. My best friend took a job in the city after college, but he got in a pretty bad wreck one day. Took his arm, put him in the hospital for months. He didn’t have anyone close by, so I went out to help him get back on his feet and resettle. He’s good now, though, and I kinda missed it around here, so here I am.”

He flaps his arms at his sides weakly, a strangled chuckle finishing his sentence.

“Can I ask you another question?”

“What’s that?”

“What’s with your salsa garden?”

Keith laughs loud, sharp and surprised. “What can I say? I love salsa. There’s just something special about a fresh, ripe, juicy tomato.” His eyes drift over Hunk with an air of faux casualness. “You know?”

“Um,” Hunk answers eloquently. If what he thinks is happening is really happening, then he really hopes it happens.

“Besides,” Keith continues, “There’s something about gardening that really helps me to just...slow down. It’s nice.”

Hunk smiles at the admission. He knows the feeling. Although it’s a bit different for him, he can identify with the calm feeling that washes over you while taking care of something other than yourself.

“What about you, big guy? Why bees?”

Hunk’s mind clicks hard over _big guy,_  but he bats the thought away to formulate his answer.

“Okay, so you know how you feel about your tomatoes?” Keith nods in affirmation. “That’s how I feel about my bees. Not in a eating ‘em kinda way. Just in a...loving them and wanting them to succeed in life kinda way.”

“Bees get degrees,” Keith answers thoughtlessly. It’s so nonchalant that Hunk almost misses the fact that it was a joke. When it hits him, he laughs a little louder than is maybe necessary, but the surprise of Keith’s wit startles something in him.

“Gotta bring home the gold for their queen somehow,” he answers.

Keith snorts and turns away, gathering his gardening supplies from where he had left them scattered beside his plot. He tucks them delicately in a gardening bag before turning back to speak to Hunk again. “I’ll see you around, then? I come by every other day around this time.”

Hunk’s head is nodding before the brain inside of it catches up, but that’s okay with him. He’s already shuffling around his schedule in his head to make sure they’ll cross paths again. It’s ridiculous and sophomoric, but he can’t help it. He’s got to see Keith again.

His voice doesn’t seem to come from himself when he says a weak _yeah, see you around_ and waves goodbye.

 

+++

 

Hunk never mentions the fact that he’s adjusted the alarms on his cellphone to be able to catch Keith in the community garden every other day. It’s just that suddenly the bees need a lot more attention than they normally do. The oversmoking really affected them emotionally, you know? Nervous bees make nervous honey and all that.

Keith cocked a suspicious eyebrow at that one, but Hunk made sure to look away before any questions could be asked.

They fall into an easy pattern wherein they meet in the garden every other day. If Hunk just so happens to have some homemade lemonade sweetened with honey from his bees, well that’s no big deal. Eventually, he offers to lend Keith a hand with his plot and Keith asks to learn how beekeeping works.

The longer they follow their ritual, the more Hunk’s heart yearns for the other man, but aside from the very first day they met, Keith gives no indication that he feels any sort of way toward Hunk aside from friendship. Which is okay. Really. It’s not soul-crushing or heart-wrenching or any other dramatic combination of words. Really. It’s not.

One morning, as Hunk is strolling into the garden for their morning meeting, he finds Keith already on hands and knees, inspecting plant leaves and muttering to himself.

“You know,” Hunk says, startling Keith from his position, “they say that talking to yourself is never a good sign. Are you feeling okay?”

Keith snorts and rolls his eyes, accepting Hunk’s proffered hand to stand up.

“I’m not, really. Have you seen this?” He gestures to the plants he was speaking to, revealing torn, browned leaves. “The rabbits, man. The _rabbits_.”

“Should I have a chat with Bugs about his cousins?” Hunk asks with a laugh. Keith cuts him a serious look, but he looks so put-out and childish, pouting with dirt smeared across his nose, that Hunk can’t help but laugh harder.

“Come on, let’s take a look,” he says, crouching down to inspect the battered pepper plants. He looks them over quietly, trying to suss out why the rabbits would be so suddenly into Keith’s succulent jalapeno leaves. His mind wanders, imploring the pieces to fit together, and with it, so too do his eyes. Suddenly, everything slams into place as he looks up in front of himself. “Hey Keith? Do you know who owns this plot?”

Keith crouches down next to him, looking at the overstuffed plot Hunk is referring to. It’s overflowing with all sorts of vegetables, big, beautiful carrots rimming the borders.

“Oh, yeah. Miss Jacobs. She introduced herself the day I came in. A little cranky, but not awful, you know? She’s just...there.”

Ah. See, here’s the thing: Hunk knows old Miss Jacobs. If there’s one thing she is, it’s fastidious about having the best of all things. He remembers a time in high school when he ran through her front yard to catch Lance’s wayward dog after he ran away from home. If it hadn’t been for the fact that it was _Lance’s_ dog, Hunk is fairly certain she would have skinned him alive to make a tablecloth or something just for ruining the crisp mower lines in her grass.

“Did she ever mention anything about your plants?”

“Mmm, no, not really. She said I was lucky to get the sun exposure I do for my tomatoes? Something about how it was prime gardening light or something like that. I kind of wasn’t listening all the way.”

Overprotectiveness flares up in Hunk something fierce, which is weird, because Hunk doesn’t tend to have a confrontational bone in his body. Cute boys’ll do that to you, he supposes. Fortunately for everyone involved, Hunk has his secret weapon.

With a flourish, he pulls his cell phone from his pocket and dials Lance.

“Heya, my Hunk-a-Hunk of burning love!” Lance answers in sing-song.

“Gross!” Pidge shouts in the background, sending Hunk laughing at Lance’s protests.

“Whatcha need, my man?” Lance asks after a few more moments of whining at his girlfriend.

“You remember cranky old Miss Jacobs?” Hunk asks seriously.

“...You mean Petunia? Yeah, of course I—oh my god, Hunk! Is she dead?! She didn’t die, did she?!”

“Holy shit, Lance, no. I just need a favor.”

Lance breathes out a sigh of relief. “Why didn’t you lead with that, Hunk? You can’t just start conversations about old people who love me that way!”

“Yeah, well, I was kind of hoping we could lean into that love a little bit.”

“What?”

Hunk explains the situation and his suspicions about said situation, and Lance remains curiously silent on the other end of the line until he finishes.

“Hunk?”

“Yeah?”

“You like him don’t you?”

Of course Lance would get right to the root of it. He’s wild and ostentatious, but also surprisingly observant when need be. He also knows Hunk better than anyone else, so Hunk doesn’t even try to fool him when he answers, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“You know he’s my mortal enemy, right?”

“I still don’t understand that.”

“That settles it, then!”

The line goes dead. Hunk dreads the future.

 

+++

 

The next time Hunk meets Keith in the garden, it’s a little busier than normal. Hunk is surprised to find Lance and Miss Jacobs chatting amicably by her plot as Keith works quietly in his own. He approaches lightly, smiling and waving at Keith when he glances up over his tomato cages. Warmth fills Hunk’s chest, bright like the sun that halos Keith’s raven black hair.

As he strolls up to his bee boxes, Hunk overhears Lance dramatically speaking with Miss Jacobs.

“So, anyway, Petunia, I’m sure you can understand! Those rabbits are just such rascals, and if they get at anyone else’s patches, I’m just so worried that Hunk’s bees would suffer! And you know what they say about saving the bees!”

“Oh, Lance, you sweet boy,” she answers, voice dripping in sugary concern, “of course I understand! You sweetheart, any friend of yours is a friend of mine. I’d be more than happy to move those carrots!”

“Petunia, you absolute angel, I adore you!” Lance is laying it on a little thick, Hunk thinks to himself as he watches him dramatically throw his arms around her bony shoulders, but he just can’t argue with results. Keith looks at Hunk over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised at the situation. Hunk tosses him a wink and is delighted to find him swiftly turning away with burning cheeks.

Lance swaggers away from Miss Jacobs, leaving her to pull up the offending carrots while approaches Hunk.

“You owe me big time, buddy,” he says, stooping down to grab Hunk’s smoker. “How are you planning to tell him about your big, gross crush anyway?”

“Lance! Shut up, dude!” Hunk whines, tugging Lance away from Keith’s earshot.

“Wait, you _are_ planning to tell him, right? Look, I know we haven’t talked much in the past few weeks and everything, but I can tell when you’re hung up on a guy, and Hunk? My dude? My bro? My best? The dial tone is a-ringin’, you’re so hung up.”

“Okay, first of all, that was awful. And second, I know. I just—I just don’t know.”

“You could always let ol’ Lancey Lance handle it for you!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Suit yourself, buddy. I’m just saying, he’s into you too.”

“What?”

“Oh yeah. All goo goo eyes and blushy blushy and shit. You guys are disgusting, really.”

Hunk looks over at Keith, humming to himself and smiling as a bee buzzes around his cilantro plants. His insides go soft and squishy, a warm buzzing to match his hives starting up in his head.

“Seriously, Hunk. You guys are awful.” Lance slaps Hunk on the back. “Even if you don’t say anything, you owe me, just so you know.”

Hunk laughs at Lance’s back as he tromps away from the garden.

“Thanks, I guess.”

Lance throws a hand up over his head in answer and hops in his car. Hunk is pretty sure he isn’t imagining the smirk on his face as he drives away. He chooses to ignore it for another day. He’s got one last thing to do for Keith.

The backs of Hunk’s hands sweat nervously as he approaches the cheery little garden he’s come to love so much. Keith is still humming, puttering around on his knees, but he stops when Hunk’s shadow falls over him.

“You know,” he says, leaning back on his haunches, “plants tend to grow best in the sun.”

“Maybe,” Hunk allows. “They also tend to grow best with the proper tools.”

Hunk reaches into his pocket and produces the gift that’s been burning a hole through his jeans all morning: a brand new hand shovel with a bright red ribbon tied around the handle. Keith looks at it in confusion, bouncing his gaze between the tool and Hunk’s face a few times before tentatively reaching out for it.

“To celebrate,” Hunk says quietly as Keith accepts his offering. “Ding dong, the carrots are dead, right?”

Keith doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t laugh like Hunk hoped, or smile like Hunk hoped. He doesn’t move a muscle, and it terrifies Hunk to his core. He hopes he didn’t misstep here. He doesn’t want Keith to disappear on him.

His fears don’t have long to flourish, because just before the panic can really set in, Hunk finds himself with an armful of Keith as the other man tackles him to the ground. Soft lips find his own, sinking him down into the dirt beneath him. Keith is wiry and lithe and so warm in Hunk’s lap as their mouths connect and move together. Hunk can feel his entire nervous system short out, electricity frying all of his circuit boards and blowing several fuses.

Keith draws away eventually. Nervous fingertips glide across Hunk’s jaw and down his neck. Keith’s hands are trembling, so Hunk takes them in his own to soothe the nerves.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Keith admits quietly.

Hunk’s soul departs his body as his frazzled nervous system finally gives out. _So long, soul_ , he thinks to himself. _It’s been real._

“Let me take you out,” he pleads. Hopefully, Keith can ignore the note of desperation laced across the words. Hunk tries his best to do just that.

“Why, um. Why don’t we stay in and cook?” Keith answers. “I have a nice garden at home.”

Hunk’s mind trips all over itself in confusion.

“What? Why do you have a plot here, then?”

“...I wanted to meet you.”

**Author's Note:**

> please feel free to come see me over on [twitter](https://twitter.com/_tootsonnewts), and my far less active [tumblr](http://tootsonnewts.tumblr.com/), if you'd like.
> 
> have a wonderful day!


End file.
